#ocmarcel

[velidewrites]

vermillion 🤝 me

selling our souls for a feysand threesome

The Vermilion vs Marcel fascination with feysand needs to be studied under a microscope actually cause like:

One one hand we've got Vermilion who's like. Feyre is so beautiful I want to paint her naked then kneel in front of her portrait and wish her perfect likeness would spit in my mouth. Oh she's mated? Even better, I've been VIVIDLY imagining myself wrapped up in Rhysand's arms this ENTIRE meeting and I feel like he's been aggressively avoiding my gaze. What good are daemati powers these days, do you need me to spell FUCK ME out loud for you??

And then we have Marcel......haha. You already know. He's been visiting Amarantha's poor broken pet UtM, showing her the most beautiful visions of freedom, of sunlight, of life far, far beyond this place, only to take it away from her the moment her fragile little mind begun to believe it. And then came Rhysand. Reaching Feyre's cell first in the middle of the night had become a race between them two. Amarantha's other pet, it seemed, wanted to play with the human, too, for reasons entirely beyond Marcel. Not that he cared. He only cared for the flash of anger in Rhysand's violet eyes whenever he spotted Marcel, already kneeling in front of Feyre's iron cage, gloved hand cradling her cheek as though to wipe away tears. Marcel could always tell Rhysand was there, lurking, from the way the shadows densed around them. From the teasing taps of sharp talons, scraping at the gates of his mind. Too bad daemati powers never worked on Marcel, who'd worked out a way to have his smoke shield his mind from the intrusions by inducing visions of their own. He began to enjoy this competition of theirs, the push and pull. Soon, he began to tease those lurking shadows with visions of an entirely different kind. The two of them, right in that iron cage with sweet Feyre, catching each other's gazes with her body nestled between... And Rhys's shadows would thicken at those visions again -- though this time, for a wholly new reason.

[velidewrites]

The Lady of Autumn is next 🍂 I am committed to drawing more women.

Side note: Because I like to hurt my own feelings, I made her look the most like Marcel, her third son and coincidentally, the most cruel of the Vanserra brothers. I just think there’s something so [screaming and gunshots ensue] about the son with the most twisted and terrifying nature taking after the gentle, kind-hearted mother. While Marcel enjoys the resemblance — the false sense of security it offers his victims — the Lady of Autumn can no longer look in the mirror without being reminded of the cruelty reflected in her own son’s face.

[velidewrites]

More on Marcel Vanserra, Third Son of Autumn and resident psychopath:

• The only Vanserra brother to have inherited Beron’s brown eyes, though Marcel’s have an unusual paleness to them

• Conjures smoke instead of fire — extremely lethal to the senses. One touch is enough to cause burns, convulsions, and hallucinations. Breathing it in makes the body slowly rot from the inside

• Marcel is not immune to his own magic, so when torturing, he protects himself by wearing leather gloves and a mask

• Bonus: when asked why his smoke magic would hurt its own master, Marcel simply shrugs it off by saying: “My power, my blood, everything that I am was given to me by my father. Why should it wish to do anything but hurt me?”

[velidewrites]

Marcel Vanserra’s leather mask and gloves are enforced by old Lesser Faerie magic to keep him safe from the lethal power of his smoke. They were a gift from Eris, who had spent weeks in the Day Court researching wards that might keep his younger brother from accidentally harming himself.

Eris had planned to gift them to Marcel on his fifteenth birthday. Two days before, Marcel had lost control of his smoke, causing a significant chunk of his right forearm to burn down to the bone. It was contained by a healer, though the lost skin and muscle the smoke had sizzled through were unfortunately irreparable due to his magic’s cruel will.

Eris still blames himself for that day.

—

Decided to sluttify Marcel’s mask a little and add more details!

Also gloveless hand reveal!

Marcel Vanserra is my OC — please do not use him in any works, thank you!

[velidewrites]

Thoroughly saddened to report Marcel Vanserra smokes in a Modern AU 😔

View on Instagram

[velidewrites]

I Bet on Losing Dogs 🐺🔥 || Character Cards 4/5

In a lucky twist of fate, smokewraith-assassin Nesta Archeron becomes the first person to ever attempt killing Beron Vanserra and escape unharmed. Now, the entire Guard chases after her, led by the one and only Autumn Court Heir. But Eris Vanserra doesn’t seek to punish — no, he wants to enlist her help.

Eris’s Card || Nesta’s Card || Sylas’s Card

────୨ৎ────

Meet Marcel Vanserra, the Third Son of Autumn and the Court’s Torturer. Preferring to stay in the deep, dark dungeons beneath the Forest House, Marcel lives out his days doing the work Beron has deemed too dirty to stain his own hands with. Unlike his brother Sylas, though, Marcel doesn’t do his father’s bidding to please him — no, Marcel simply enjoys it.

His unique powers make the work all the more pleasing: instead of the blazing Vanserra fire, Marcel conjures a deadly, sizzling smoke that suffocates everything in its path. It only takes one inhale of Marcel’s smoke for your lungs to blacken in your chest — and oh, does he enjoy letting his victims breathe so freely.

@dusk-muse I hope you love Marcel, who I’ve had so much fun creating! I can’t wait for you to see my favorite little psychopath in action. You can view Part 2 of his Card & a close-up below!

Marcel Vanserra is my OC, please do not use him in any works. Thank you!

@acotargiftexchange

[velidewrites]

Marcel girlies… we are so back.

More on Marcel Vanserra, Third Son of Autumn and Court Torturer here.

[velidewrites]

I heard we wanted a hair length comparison art? 👀

🍂 Eris, The Autumn Court Heir

⚔️ Sylas, Second Son of Autumn and War General

🗝️ Marcel, Third Son of Autumn and Torturer

🎨 Vermilion, Sixth Son of Autumn and Emissary

☀️ Lucien, Seventh Son and Exile

[velidewrites]

Vanserra Brothers’ Official Birthdays! 🎂

Eris - November 30

Sylas - March 27

Marcel - September 7

Perses & Ulric - April 14

Vermilion - July 16

Lucien - June 22

I thought it would be fun to do little art pieces on their birthdays to celebrate!

Also 👀 I know Lucien having a summer birthday is controversial but there’s just something to me about his birthday being on the longest day of the year; and similarly, Eris’s birthday taking place at the very end of Autumn, symbolizing the imminent end of Beron’s reign 🍂

[velidewrites]

Dead Eyes Marcel

[velidewrites]

vanserra bros most to least likely to say “I love you” for the first time during sex 🎤

Oh the brothers who have never been told "I love you" ever in their life?

NSFW incoming SORRY I'M SORRY

Most, surprisingly (or not?) -- Sylas. DEFINITELY lets it slip while he's thrusting deep inside. You just felt so good, so perfect, it's almost as if you were made for him, to be his. No one has ever known him this way, no one else ever will. He never wanted this to happen, but he is yours as much as you are his. Too far gone to even think about going back. It started off rough, possessive, but now that those words are out, his touches hold a new tenderness to them. Sylas Vanserra has, somehow, become gentle with you. Only you.

Second likely? Bet you never expected this -- Marcel. He doesn't mean it, of, course, not really. What he loves is the way your eyes light up when he tells you he loves you -- oh, he will delight in turning that light to tears when he brings you to your knees later. He loves the way your mouth parts slightly; he knows it's going to take him so well when the time comes. He loves the way your voice shakes when you say you love him, too -- he's thinking about the rasp it will carry after he makes you beg screaming. He loves how good for him you're being, how easy to steer right where he wants you. So perfect that ruining you will be even sweeter.

Least likely to ever say he loves you -- Vermilion. How, you might ask? He was just in your bed last night, making you feel like nothing, no one, has ever been more important in this world. He made you feel so good, so complete. He begged you, wonder and adoration in his eyes, to take and take from him again until he had nothing left to give. And after all of that, he's just going to leave? You'll never see him again? The answer is yes. It's for the best. With the rising sun, he isn't Ver anymore, he's Vermilion Vanserra, and he must look and act the part. To love you would be to associate you with that name. To love you would be to put you in danger. No; he won't let himself even think about loving you. So long as it keeps you safe.

[velidewrites]

this is extremely horny and I understand if you don’t want to answer lol, but what are Vermillion and Marcel like as romantic/sexual partners?

of course Marcel is evil but you’ve alluded multiple times to him being a whore and an ace in the sheets and I would die for some examples 🤲

Okay okay so I was planning to answer this like a normal, non-horny person but then I started browsing on Pinterest and uh. Please enjoy, under the cut, Sylas/Marcel/Vermilion as romantic/sexual partners as told by base drawing references I found:

‼️ Warning for NSFW/implied dub-con (under Marcel)

Sylas: possessive/worshipping/biting

Marcel: obsession/control/dub-con

Vermilion: switch/yearning/teasing

[velidewrites]

It’s implied Under the Mountain ‘the vanserra brothers’ leer and taunt Feyre, almost in a lascivious way. Who was it, (besides Eris I think who was named) and what were they thinking :) 💕

AMAZING question. I think they all did, but for very different reasons.

Sylas genuinely enjoyed seeing the little human trapped in a cage. He placed bets on Feyre losing, then swore loudly when she emerged victorious. The taunting was more for his bruised ego, really, than out of pure cruelty — he couldn't believe a pathetic mortal had managed to survive Amarantha's every whim. Had it not been for Eris and Beron keeping the rest of the family in check, Sylas might have let his competitive side get the best of him and jump into the Middengard Wyrm's pit himself, if only to show the human girl how it's done.

Vermilion did it to get a reaction out of Lucien. He remembered his little brother's first time Under the Mountain and how Lucien had left it — covered in his own blood. It had been decades since Vermilion saw him. Was Lucien still there, or was the fox mask hiding a shell of the male he once knew? This... human. She seemed important to him, for some reason. Vermilion used her to see if she was enough to catch a glimpse of his little brother all, and he did it in the only way a Vanserra knows how.

Marcel under the cut as always LOL

Marcel was simply bored. He was, perhaps, the only Vanserra Under the Mountain to not particularly care about his rather dire circumstances. He got the job done no matter where he was, and Amarantha's guards and monsters seemed to steer clear of him, anyway. Marcel's magic had been dwindled Under the Mountain the same way the others' had been — yet, for some reason, they all preferred to get out of his way all the same. It was starting to become too mundane, the routine like the bloodstains on his gloved hands: always present, difficult to get rid of. The human, at the very least, provided some entertainment. She was interesting — her boldness. It captivated him in a manner he hadn't felt in a very long time. He wished so badly for his magic to be returned to him, in that moment, if only to test just how badly he could break her, to see how much she could withstand if left alone with him. She belonged to Amarantha, though, and Marcel wasn't a fool. Still, it didn't stop him from promising little Feyre to visit her cell at night, promising her sweet, sweet absolution, praising her strength, then degrading the wounds she had taken with such little resistance. One time, he even slid the glove off his hand, teasing her cheek through the iron bars of her cage, humming quiet praises. So soft, even after all she's done to you. He let a thin trail of smoke slip past the gap and caress her face, let her breathe it in, let her see the faint image he'd imbued into the smoke with what little power he had left: Amarantha's little pet, free from her mistress's grasp at last, riding in the Autumn Court, wild and free. He let her hear the crunch of golden leaves under her horse's hooves, let the crisp slowly shift into the sound of her bones breaking, admiring the way her glazed, blue-grey eyes widened in horror. Marcel would smile at that. Feyre Archeron, unlike so many others who had come before her, was simply delightful.

[velidewrites]

Do the Vanbros have a favorite childhood memory?

EXCELLENT ask. It's new lore time (sorry in advance)

Sylas will never admit it, but he remembers following Eris around as a child. He remembers seeing Eris as his older brother, someone so strong and impressive and fierce who'd promised to always protect him. He remembers young Eris leaving the Forest House to go on hunts, and he remembers sneaking out to run after him, eyes wide and bright, desperate to be just like him. He remembers, but he won't let himself think about it -- about any of it. Has not thought about it in centuries, for fear that Eris might suddenly become something more than what he is now. An enemy. An obstacle. A target. Sylas only thinks about Beron telling him he's weak, weaker than Eris, a disappointment. Another failure of a son. A wasted opportunity, a hope a father had harbored for nothing. Maybe, if he proves he's stronger than Eris, Beron will change his mind. But, just look at him. Sylas can practically hear the discontentment hissing through Beron's teeth. He could never defeat his older brother. Sylas has never even managed to defeat his own raging magic, and he's got the scars to prove it.

Marcel remembers nothing. Too many years of his life had been spent in the Forest House under Beron's close watch to remember anything that had happened prior. Marcel remembers the torture, the near-silent whispers of incantations Beron had found in the Middle. Magic aimed to steal, to take, to conquer. Marcel remembers the forceful pull of Beron's magic against his own, the agonizing pain of a High Lord's command to surrender the smoke so that he may claim its power for himself. He remembers praying to the Mother, the Cauldron, the Forgotten Gods, to just give it to him and let the pain slip away. He remembers losing faith in all of them. He remembers his mind crumbling thought by thought, scar by scar, until nothing good remained. If it had, he might have remembered being born shortly before the War. He might have remembered Beron hardly being around during his early childhood, and the nightmares the staff's stories about the battles ahead would give him. He might have remembered falling asleep to a gentle, crackling fire, and the small children's book in Eris's hands. His brother's quiet voice reading him stories about the animals living in Autumn's beautiful, golden forests, the very image lulling him to sleep.

Vermilion did not have a happy childhood. He remembers wandering the empty halls of the Forest House, haunted only by the ghost his mother had become. She was always so sad -- so lifeless, the russet of her eyes like decaying Autumn leaves, giving way to a piercing, ruthless winter. He remembers trying to make her laugh, if only so that her eyes might light up and Autumn might last a little bit longer. And he did, sometimes. Those precious seconds are what he holds onto today, when he visits the House for formal events as Beron's perfect emissary, and the look she gives him is no different than that of the ghost's. So no, he didn't have a happy childhood, but all that changed with one equinox -- the one event his mother had been allowed to leave the House to attend. Vermilion, a very young adult now, knew then; she was still in there, buried somewhere too deep for Ver to uncover. A few months later, he sees that russet sparkle again -- but it's no longer held in his mother's eyes. Lucien's birth had changed everything, and Autumn was back in Vermilion's life, putting an end to the years of unforgiving winter. He swore, then, that this russet light, he would never let die out. Lucien would be his to protect, his to love, his to show his mother that being Vanserra has never meant a thing to Vermilion. And so he did -- he took Lucien everywhere, snuck the teenage little rake in to taverns, brothels, and hunts, balls and galas where they'd place bets on which highborn lady would go home with either of them first. And when, one hunt, Lucien took home Jesminda, Vermilion had never seen that spark burn brighter. It is the failure of his life that Vermilion was the one to kill it. He remembers holding Lucien down, the hot tears of his brother staining his jacket, Lucien's still-weak fire burning Vermilion's skin. But he didn't relent. It had to be done. But now, Vermilion wonders -- was the death of that spark worth it if all it left behind is another ghost?

[velidewrites]

The mask is back ON I hope you guys are prepared…

[velidewrites]

Someone asked for a Part 2 to the NSFW Vanserra brothers as romantic/sexual partners and I am here to deliver.

Warning for NSFW under the cut and also implied dub-con for Marcel:

Sylas: “You’re the only one who can touch me like this.” // “You belong to me.” // “Say you need me.” // “Little liar.” // “Just one taste. Please.”

Marcel: “I don’t like my things so loud.” // “Why are you crying?” // “Relax for me.” // “There. Now, wasn’t that easier?” // “You’re so pretty like this.”

Vermilion: “You are simply outstanding.” // “And what will you do if I beg you for it?” // “So gentle with me. Have I given you the wrong impression?” // “Oh, you like seeing me like this.” // “Don’t miss me too much in the morning.”